Caring about Lahore

Caring about Lahore

By Hafizur Rahman


Living in the rarefied atmosphere of Islamabad I hardly ever visit
Lahore. I do not even go for Basant the annual bash that is fast
becoming an international event, though how it will be celebrated next
February with the government's restriction on flying kites, is beyond
my ken.

But Lahore is my home town and supposedly the cultural capital of
Pakistan and I am deeply interested in its welfare. So when I heard
some time ago that a body called Care About Lahore (CAL) had been
formed for the protection of old buildings within the walled city and
was actually functioning, my interest was instantly aroused.

Caring citizens had also joined hands some ten years ago and set up
the Lahore Conservation Society to make efforts for the preservation
of old structures in the walled city. It was not to interfere, except
to make pertinent suggestions, with the work of the Archaeological
Department which concerns itself with protected historical monuments
but to take up the task of looking after private buildings. I wonder
what happened to it.

Such bodies owe their existence usually to the enthusiasm of one
person who inspires and goads others to join him. Maybe the moving
spirit of the Conservation Society is no longer around. Maybe he was
disappointed by the lack of matching enthusiasm in his companions or a
discouraging response from the authorities. Whatever the reason, the
society has not been heard of for a long time, or perhaps I don't know
that it still works.

Now probably to keep alive the hopes of people who love the walled
city this new body has come into being, though its formation does not
seem to be a recent occurrence. The avowed aim of CAL's members - all
volunteers - is to help preserve buildings in the oldest part of
Lahore, as also to address the many problems that plague the sprawling
provincial metropolis. I hope CAL is associating with the good work it
has undertaken those who were active in the Lahore Conservation
Society of old.

It may sound bizarre but the best person to contact in this connection
is the Aga Khan Prize winning architect Nayyar Ali Dada, who was sent
to jail by the Punjab administration four years ago for the collapse
of the roof of Alhamra Auditorium. Regrettably this shabby treatment
had come from Chief Minister Shahbaz Sharif who had otherwise done so
much for Lahore.

As far as I can recall, Nayyar Ali Dada was not the main person behind
the Lahore Conservation Society but he was certainly one of its
founders. He should be able to guide CAL about the more enthusiastic
members of the now moribund society, including some bright young
people who were then students of the National College of Arts and did
some fine practical work in the walled city like drawing up a list of
buildings to be preserved and dividing them into categories. That is,
if Nayyar is not already associated with CAL too.

Lahore is in urgent need of care if it is to survive the ravages of a
rapidly growing population (mainly due to urbanisation) and increasing
pollution (mostly due to dusty roads and automobile exhaust fumes) and
the juggernaut of modern development that rides roughshod over
valuable old buildings and is absolutely devoid of sensibilities. This
attitude is a horror in Karachi and the biggest hurdle before the good
people who, like CAL, have taken upon themselves the duty to preserve
that city's old structures.

According to a newspaper write-up, volunteers of Care About Lahore
hope to resurrect the walled city encircled by its thirteen gates (not
seven as the comment suggested) and develop it as a major tourist
attraction.

Given the unique architecture and embellishments of the houses and
havelis lining the narrow alleys in this part of Lahore, this is a
most commendable, though formidable plan. This badly neglected portion
of the city is in dire need of rescue because of the crumbling
woodwork and the ever-growing encroachments that have already
destroyed substantial segments of a valuable heritage.

Mention of tourism in this connection takes my mind back to some forty
years ago. As an officer of the Public Relations Department I was
deputed to take two female state guests from Europe around Lahore who
were in Pakistan for an international conference. The two ladies did
not care for The Mall, in fact they rejected it out of hand as modern,
and were barely tolerant of Anarkali which they characterised as a
conversion of the picturesque old into the garish new, and wanted me
to take them inside the walled city. I readily agreed.

Once there, they were simply enchanted by its old-world charm and
didn't want to come away. For there was so much of the quaint to see
and admire, including the life style of the denizens.

They were particularly fascinated by the aspect of hawker shopping in
which housewives let a basket go down by a long string from an
upstairs window or balcony and pull it up again with the desired
goods. I had almost to drag them away from the magical influence of
old Lahore by reminding them of their engagements in the evening.

The newspaper comment on the aims and objects of CAL had pointed out
that the interest evoked by its formation suggested the existence of a
large body of enlightened men and women and private organizations who
were keen to involve themselves in anything that would promote the
national culture and draw tourists from aboard.

Mobilization of private effort toward such causes needs to be
encouraged by the government which is handicapped by lack of both
trained personnel and adequate resources to take up a task of this
scale on its own. Actually, interested and committed private
individuals can do much more in this area then government officers,
even when the latter armed with sufficient funds.

What can be further stressed in this context is that Lahore is not the
only ancient city in the country, or in Punjab, that needs intimate
attention of conservationists. Multan is equally full of relics of old
times and abounds in beautiful buildings hundreds of years of age.

The magnificent mausoleum of Hazrat Bahauddin Zakriya has already
received aid from UNESCO. There are also small towns like Bhera and
Chiniot which are an antiquarian's paradise. So is the old city of
Hyderabad, the rich repository of Sindh's turbulent history and the
relics of its pre-British rulers. They are all waiting for saviours.

But the sad fact remains that the feeling for antiquity comes from a
western education, making one conscious of culture as a life-giving
need. To the average local citizen uninitiated in love for something
called the heritage (it is simply not there in the national psyche)
old buildings have nothing precious about them and should be torn down
to make way for plazas and shopping arcades. What is to be done about
this attitude? Who will, and who can, educate a whole nation?